(C)ripple effect

His skin flakes full of melanin
give off heat
as they burn into my lungs.
They clog my abilities
to make sense in my speech,
preventing me
from in-taking and outputting
logical air.
But the hazardous scent
of smoky hair
calms me.
It seems natural.
I frequently
tried to sneak
a tube from the nylon container.

Until one day it was evident
I was getting heart cancer.
His scent spread through my lungs,
all the way through my blood stream,
trickling past the ventricles.

It was obvious.
I became desperate for oxygen frequently.
Yet, just as desperate for
his inhalation.
He wasn't enough.
I wasn't moving.
I was talking,
but nothing
was coming
out.

One day in the hospital,
I sneaked another piece out
as I stood over near the window,
thinking I was at good distance
from other people.
The small, round paper tube was wilting
(like in the anti-nicotine commercials)
as he threw and smacked his pack
against my head saying,
"Silly girl. You have no common sense."

Then the doctor
Convinces him to stay away from me
while I sit here in rehab
in a straight jacket

While he continues to corrupt many others.